Cowboy Up
by crematosis
Summary: Roleplay isn't exactly Natasha's thing, but she's willing to try it for Clint. After all, he's willing to indulge some of her more interesting kinks.


Natasha frowned at her reflection in the mirror. The pink flannel shirt and wide-brimmed white cowboy hat were ugly things she'd never wear herself, but they fit the cowgirl aesthetic Clint wanted so she would have to put up with them.

She had never really understood the appeal of roleplay. Putting on a new outfit and pretending to be someone else was just part of the job as a spy. it had never been something sexy.

But it was what Clint liked and she could indulge his weirder fantasies sometimes. After all, he made plenty of concessions for kinks she liked.

Satisfied with her appearance for the time being, she walked out of the bathroom and into the gym room she and Clint had taken over for their scene. She kept her stride casual but confident, making sure the sound of her boots would be heard long before she was seen.

She was half-surprised to see Clint still standing against the wall where she had tied him up in preparation. Clint was a master of escape and sometimes he liked to wiggle out of her knots just to prove he could.

Clint grinned and winked at her. "Ain't you a little overdressed for the occasion, Red?" He made a show of looking over his nakedness. For this scene, he had insisted on wearing nothing but cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. Just enough to get into character.

She pursed her lips. "I don't want nothin to do with a no good cattle rustler."

"Aw, Red, it's-"

She leaned in closer. "I hear you been messin with my cattle, Barton. And I don't like when people touch what's mine."

"And what you gonna do about it? If you can't keep hold 'a your own property, ain't-"

Natasha pulled the ten foot leather bullwhip off the hook beside Clint's head and unwound it slowly. "If you insist on behavin like an animal, Imma treat you like one."

Clint flinched when she cracked the whip. "C'mon, Red. You ain't gotta-"

"Time for talkin's over." She cracked the whip again. "You're just gonna stand there and take it like a man."

Clint looked up at her with wide, frightened eyes. "Have mercy on me."

She gently pressed his hat down over his face. "Say your prayers, boy."

While Clint couldn't see what she was doing, she pulled the cat o' nine tails off its hook and gave it a few experimental flicks with her free hand. They had both agreed that the bullwhip was great for setting the atmosphere, but didn't have quite the control and precision Natasha was looking for. But the cat o' nine tails worked perfectly for her.

The first lash against Clint's flaccid cock was more like a gentle tap, but he still wailed and arched into it like she had really hit him.

She chuckled darkly. "Not so tough now, are you, you son of a bitch?" She cracked the bullwhip again, smirking as Clint cringed. "Only gonna get worse for you."

On her next swing, she hit a lot harder. Clint shrieked and screamed, jerking against the ropes.

She alternated whip cracks and nine tails strikes, making sure it was all random. She didn't want Clint getting complacent. He should be tense and anticipating pain at every moment.

Clint whimpered and begged for her to stop. But he didn't use his safe word, so she kept going, each strike harder and harder, raining blows all up and down the length of his cock, trying to hit each inch.

After ten minutes, the agreed upon time for their session, she tilted his hat back and looked into his eyes. There was pain there, but also a look of hazy contentment.

Good. He was alright.

She spat on the ground at his feet. "Maybe this'll teach you not to mess with my cattle again."

"Lesson learned," Clint choked out.

She nodded. "You've been punished enough. Let's get you cleaned up, Clint."

Clint was shaky when she released him from the ropes, so she helped him into the bathroom and started a warm bath.

"How are you feeling, Clint?"

"Awesome," Clint said with a dreamy grin. "Exactly the way I hoped it would go."

"Glad to hear it." She eased him into the bathtub and gently washed his cock with antiseptic soap, checking carefully for any cuts or bruising. "Looks like you're gonna live."

Clint smiled faintly. "Looks like it. So, we getting takeout after this?"

"Of course." She kissed his forehead. "Whatever you want."

It was always nice to have a relaxing night in after an intense scene.


End file.
